


And I love you so much I'm going to let you—

by KnightPanzita



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26182951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightPanzita/pseuds/KnightPanzita
Summary: Anders has blown the Chantry of Kirkwall to smithereens in a desperate bid to instigate a war that could change the fate of mages forever. After a frantic battle against a group of Meredith's Templars, Orsino has gone to rally the rest of his Circle in the Gallows. He leaves the Champion to decide what to do with the rebel apostate. But what is there to do? The Chantry has already been blown. Elthina is already dead. War has already started. Whatever decision may come is purely between Hawke and Anders.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	And I love you so much I'm going to let you—

**Author's Note:**

> I finished playing Dragon Age II a couple days ago and absolutely did not expect to have to make one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make in a video game before. I spent 20 minutes sitting in my chair crying before I wrote this fic to help me decide what to do with Anders.

“Whatever you do, just do it.”

He seemed so small, then. He’d never seemed small before. Even when Varric would joke about him being a sewer nug hiding out in Darktown, Anders had never done anything that wasn’t backed by the gentle pride that slumbered in his veins and awoke when there were the weak to defend, the downtrodden to support, the fearful to comfort. Until now, perhaps.

Hawke sighed softly, trying not to let the mage sitting before him hear, before calling out to the group behind him. “Opinions?”

Of course, it didn’t really help. After over half a decade together, Hawke knew his friends well enough to predict their lack of consensus. After all, it was one of the reasons he had fought so hard to keep each of them in his life. Each of them from different walks of life, always offering different perspectives to help guide him through the difficult decisions that always seemed to come to rest on his shoulders.

But by the Maker, why him? Why was it always him who had to make these decisions? “Why me?” Hawke uttered, freezing as he realized that he had begun speaking aloud.

A slight pause. “It can’t be anyone else,” Anders replied simply. “I killed those people, but I suppose I always knew that it would be you I would hurt the most. I lied to you. I used you. I’m meant to take comfort in the fact that it was all in the name of a fight larger than either of us, and of course I do . . . but part of me doesn’t.” His voice wavered then. “Part of me doesn’t.”

“You did lie to me.”

“I did.”

“You did use me.” Hawke slid the Bassrath-Kata from his back and the rasp of steel against steel rang out through the courtyard. Anders did not flinch.

“I did.”

Hawke rested the flat of his blade against Anders’ right shoulder, its edge inches from his neck, though not even the great heft of its weight unbalanced the mage. “You were my  _ friend _ !” Hawke exclaimed, the emotions he had been struggling to hold back starting to tear at the edges of his voice. “You were my friend, Anders.”

Another pause. Anders finally whispered, “I was,” before finding his resolve again. “And after you were there for me with Karl, I was determined to be nothing less than that. I never meant for things to come to this.”

“You never meant— Anders, you’ve been planning this for years, even if you don’t realize it! Every time I’ve come to see you, it’s just less you and more Vengeance! You used to be so proud of helping people, and now you revel in hurting them!”

“I know,” Anders whispered again. “That’s why you have to kill me.”

“I have to, do I?” Hawke challenged him. “That’s all part of your great plan?” The weight on Anders’ shoulder seemed to grow heavier with each of Hawke’s words. “You were going to blow up the Chantry, instigate a war that’ll be pinned on a Circle that had nothing to do with it, and then rely on your old pal Hawke to serve as your executioner before you had the chance to to face punishment for anything you’ve done?”

“This IS my punishment, Hawke!” Anders shouted, the first time his voice had risen above a murmur since sitting down on that crate. “This is my penance!”

Hawke lifted the sword off Anders' shoulder. “Stand up and face me,” he commanded icily.

Anders complied. Hawke stared into his eyes as if trying to peer into his soul, as if trying to determine whether or not there was something in there still worth saving. “Six years together . . . and I thought I’d know you better,” he growled.

Anders didn’t respond. His eyes contained no pleading, no regret, just a simple acceptance.

“Six years together . . . and I thought you’d know me better, too,” Hawke sighed, sheathing the Bassrath-Kata. A chorus of relieved sighs and tired grunts sounded out behind him, and Varric exclaimed, “Maker, Hawke, you really kept that up for a bit. We’re on a bit of a time crunch, you know?”

“I know,” Hawke answered back, “but I didn’t know what I was going to do until I already began doing it.”

Anders balked for the first time that evening, seemingly unable to comprehend what was going on. “What are you doing?” he questioned Hawke, the tense calm in his voice now replaced with alarm.

“Well, you know me. I’ve never been one to let another person’s plan go off without a hitch.”

“I’m not buying that, Hawke. You have every right to kill me. Maker, you might even have a responsibility to—”

“I don’t want that!” Hawke shouted, ending his brief levity. “I don’t want that responsibility and you don’t have the right to give it to me! I didn’t ask for that, and you are NOT going to force it on me! You don’t get to use me anymore!”

Anders took a step back, his eyes cast downward like a scolded puppy. “Hawke, I—”

Hawke placed a firm but gentle grip on the mage’s shoulder, silencing him. “Anders. There has been much death today, and there will be even more to come. I’ve killed a lot of people and I’m going to have to kill more. But I will not kill a friend.”

“A friend?”

“You were my friend, Anders. You still are.” Hawke smiled at him. “Now come on, you’ve started a great mess and now you’re going to help us try to fix it. We’ve got to catch up with Orsino and keep Meredith from eradicating the Circle . . . and worse.”

Anders smiled back at Hawke, the first time he smiled that day, that month, perhaps even that year, then hesitated. “What about Vengeance, Hawke?”

“A problem for another time. Like Varric said, we’re on a bit of a crunch right now. And I meant what I said, too. You cannot force me to be your executioner.” The edges of Hawke’s voice hardened. “I’ll decide that in due time.”

Hawke called on the rest of his companions then, shouting, “Come on, we’ve got to get to the Gallows quickly!” and they surged forward without question, placing their unerring trust in the Champion of Kirkwall.

Anders, too, surged forward.


End file.
